


Unexpected Obscenity

by Ocearna



Series: The Adventures of a Young Quartermaster [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Q Branch shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocearna/pseuds/Ocearna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Q first took over as Quartermaster people assumed from his appearance that he was mild-mannered, polite and rule-abiding, if a little cold. </p><p>They were wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Obscenity

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, not brit-picked. Any help with the latter would be appreciated. Enjoy!

The first time Q broke into a fit of swearing after becoming the Quartermaster, the noise level in Q Branch plummeted as most of the night-shift techs swivelled in their chairs to stare.

“Shit! You bloody idiot what the hell did you— No, don’t do _that_!” Q nearly shouted into his headset. He was standing at the main control desk, his fingers flying over a keyboard, with his attention split between three of the main displays and a laptop at his side. “You’re going the wrong damn way!”

The main screens at the front of the room were showing satellite and tracker feeds, both shifting constantly as 007 crashed through the Djemaa El-Fna markets and out onto one of the adjoining roads, destroying stalls of food and traditional Moroccan medicines as he went. Unfortunately he had decided to brave the market at night when the crowds were greatest, and now he was having to resort to some rather creative methods to get past the hordes of people and stay in pursuit of his target. He was also heading _away_ from his target, opting to chance a trip around the block rather than follow directly. Bond’s insistence that he knew the streets and could predict where the target was going better than Q was the source of their current argument.

None of the techs could hear Bond’s reply, but it certainly didn’t seem to help the quartermaster’s temper. “I don’t _care_ if you’ve been to Marrakech before, I’m telling you he’s taking Koutoubia and—You don’t even know—Will you just bloody listen!?”

There were a few seconds of silence, presumably while Bond responded. Q’s expression just grew more pinched and angry. Q started to reply, “You can’t be sure—“ but cut himself off when the red dot on the satellite map – the target – turned the corner of the block, heading straight for the same intersection Bond was quickly approaching.

Q seemed to freeze, watching the red dot as it bypassed the major intersection that would have carried it away in the other direction and instead continued the two blocks towards Bond. Then his expression cleared, his usual bland mask slipping into place, and his fingers started dancing across the keyboard again.

“I hope that tracker you planted is still on the target, 007, and hasn’t been passed off onto some poor tourist,” Q muttered. A moment later he added, “Maybe not on the main street? We want to cause as little fuss as possible. _Especially_ after the stunt in the markets.”

All of Q Branch watched as the red dot met the blue dot and, after a minute’s pause, was drawn down the side road Bond had come from. It wasn’t much in the way of cover but it was late at night and the angle of the corner made the street a little more private.

When the dots paused again, a few metres back from the road in a building or alley, Q’s lips quirked into the slightest smile. He was still typing and his eyes occasionally flicked to a side screen where code was slowly appearing in neat lines, but he had dramatically slowed down. Four minutes later Q hummed a nonverbal response into the mic. The red dot blinked out of existence and the blue dot began moving away from the scene.

“I would say well done 007,” Q said, voice prim, “but the damage you did to the markets was rather extensive, so I’m more inclined to tell you to try harder next time.” A pause, then, “Yes, well. Just return your equipment for once and I _might_ be a bit happier.” Q’s eyes rolled at Bond’s response. “Go back to your hotel, 007. Someone will send through tickets for your flight out in the next hour or so.”

Q removed the headset, placing it down beside his laptop, and turned to step down from the platform at the front of the room but paused. His eyes swept over the several techs – a good half of the room – who hadn’t yet had to the sense to turn back to their desks and pretend they had been working the whole time, and his eyebrows rose. “Yes?”

Chairs creaked as they were hurriedly spun around, techs everywhere ducking their heads over their desks. Only R kept staring, her expression just barely showing her amusement.

“I’m going to get dinner,” Q muttered as he passed R on his way out.

R, who was casually leaning against the desk of a tech whose work she was overseeing, snapped a jaunty salute. “Yes sir!”

Q just glared and stalked out.


End file.
